Page 19 of Her Dark Reflection

‘I never—’ I began, but she stood, pushing her chair back with a scrape of legs against the floorboards. ‘Where are you going? You haven’t finished eating.’

‘To the infirmary. I don’t feel well,’ she said. And with that, she stormed from the room. Vanaria looked as though she was ready to start cackling as she threw a look in my direction.

I was determined not to chase after Senafae, instead lingering to finish my breakfast and then deciding on a stroll in the gardens. A long stroll. But winter had well and truly set in, and the weather was bitter and cold as I marched past withered shrubs and skeletal trees, clutching my cloak tightly around me. Nursing any kind of friendship in this place was stupid. I had too much to hide. But the look on Senafae’s face kept returning to me, and each time my stomach squirmed with guilt.

Perhaps I couldn’t have friends, but Senafae had clearly thought me hers.

With the weather bullying me back indoors, and my recent run in with Mrs Corkill still fresh enough to keep me from wandering where she would be unhappy to find me, I decided I had little choice but to return to my room.

Senafae was sitting on her bed reading a letter when I opened the door. She didn’t acknowledge me, only held the letter a little closer to her chest. With a sigh, I sat at the dressing table and began fiddling with my hair, readying myself for that afternoon’s Armistice Ball rehearsal as the silence grew thicker and heavier, settling over us like a cloud of noxious gas.

Finally, I turned in my seat to stare at her, but she still didn’t look up.

‘Who wrote you?’ I asked.

She glanced up. ‘My family.’

‘Any news from home?’

‘Nothing much.’ She carefully folded the letter and slipped it into her bedside drawer. I was disturbed to learn she was still corresponding with her family if they sold her into slavery. If they were destitute enough to sell their daughters to a flesh house, it seemed odd that they’d spend the money it would cost to send a letter from a border town all the way to Lee Helse just to communicate with one of those daughters. Surely the moment you sold your child to a place like Notes of Ivory, you were consigning her to death or misery so great that you’d never expect to hear from her again.

‘I’m sorry I lied to you,’ I said finally, unable to handle the discomfort any longer. ‘I was embarrassed about the stealing situation, and I honestly didn’t even know if I’d be able to find the king to beg for forgiveness.’

She played with her plaited bracelet for a few moments before finally speaking. ‘At least now I know what you’re here for.’

‘What do you mean?’

She met my eyes, and her expression was grim. I hadn’t known her lively, cheerful face could look so grave. ‘You want the king.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I went to beg him not to throw me out of the palace.’

‘What, because you risked your time here to steal a fork? You don’t think I’d actually believe you’d be that stupid, do you?’

Should I tell her of Vanaria’s involvement? Would she believe the truth any more than the lie? I began to speak again, but she held up her hand. ‘That’s enough,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let’s just put it behind us and move on.’

‘Of course,’ I readily agreed, surprised that she was willing to drop the issue. ‘Thank you.’

‘I’m going to change. Have you seen what we have to wear for this rehearsal? I thought we were supposed to dress more conservative while we’re here, not less.’

And just like that, it was as if nothing had happened. She flittered around the room with an energy as effervescent as champagne, sharing bits of gossip she’d gleaned about the noblemen she’d met and wondering what was planned for the Armistice Ball. I mostly let her talk, chiming in only occasionally as I puzzled over her ability to switch moods with such speed, but by the time we were ready to follow the other maisera to the empty parlour that would serve as the rehearsal space, I had pushed it out of my mind to focus on my growing excitement.

The Armistice Ball was legendary, and opportunities to attend were scarce. The Treaty of Wenderstad was signed every eight years in homage to the length of the war that spawned it, and each of the three kingdoms took turns playing host for the celebrations, which meant Brimordia only hosted every twenty-four years. The Armistice Ball was the most opulent event on the celebration itinerary and noble families from all over the three kingdoms attended. People begged, bribed, and stole their way into the Armistice Ball. My mother had attended one once, before she’d been ostracised from her family by the scandal that ended in me.

The idea of attending, even as ‘staff’, as Mrs Corkill had put it, made me giddy with anticipation.

We filtered into the parlour as a rippling sea of beige due to colour of the tight, stretchy fabric we’d all been given to rehearse in. Scandalously indecent, the gowns clung to every plane and curve of the girls around me, looking dangerously close to skin, with a gauzy skirt the only nod to modesty.

To my surprise, the man I’d met the night before,HighLord Faucher, sat in an armchair at the front of the room. Surely, he wasn’t going to be instructing us?

I could feel the chorus of raised eyebrows behind me as I quickly crossed the floor and bobbed a curtsey before him. ‘My lord, how fine it is to see you here. I had no idea you were a choreographer.’

‘Oh no.’ He chuckled and shook his head rigorously. ‘No, I’m here strictly to observe and report. Boccius has put so much work into organising this ruddy ball. He wants eyes on everything.’

‘Of course,’ I said, pretending I knew who Boccius was. ‘Then who—’

The door sprang open again and all eyes in the room turned on a man strolling in, sweeping his arms wide as he went. ‘Ladies, welcome. I am Master Perunicus, your choreographer. We are going to make exquisite art together,’ he announced

A battle of colours fought for territory over his body, and I spent several seconds trying to make sense of it all. Greens, blues, purples, reds; all were represented. As he surveyed the women arrayed before him, he blinked hard, as though he’d just caught the sun in his eyes.

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